Picturing You with Him
by SixEcho
Summary: He's watching the woman he loves walk down the aisle with another man, and there's nothing he can do but force a smile. SJ


**Title:** Picturing You with Him

**Summary:** He's watching the woman he loves walk down the isle to another man, and there's nothing he can do but force a smile. S/J

**Rating:** PG13

**Disclaimer:** Nope don't own Stargate… yet. Check back later.

**A/N:** Dedicated to the fabulous shippers at Fanform, in no particular order: Suz, Carrie, Caroline, and of course Kate!

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_"Remember me when I am gone away,  
Yet if you should forget me for a while  
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:  
Better by far you should forget and smile  
Than that you should remember and be sad." _

- Rossetti -

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Surprisingly, it hadn't hurt too much when she handed me that envelope. I knew what it was, but I couldn't open it, not in front of her. It was an innocent blue shade, reminiscent of her eyes, laced with gold filigree, inviting me to one of my worst nightmares. Perhaps it was shock, reflex, or just a reaction to last night's alcohol binge. Whatever the reason, I'd reacted calmly, rationally, even supportive of her decision.

_"I realize this is a little... awkward... and I understand if you can't make it, but it would really be great to have you there..."_

She'd rambled in question. Fool that I was, I'd agreed wholeheartedly, practically offering to walk her down the aisle myself, right into the waiting arms of that _jackass_.

I know, that's not fair.

He's a decent guy, but that doesn't mean I get to hate him any less. However way I look at it, the simple truth is that it's my fault. I should have done something when she told me about the engagement, but instead I'd stepped back... perhaps a little too far. I hadn't tried hard enough to keep her. Nobody ever explained to me what our problem was- it just hadn't happened for us, which is exactly why I'm the unfortunate shmuck who's acting perfectly_ thrilled_ that the woman he loves is marrying someone else. I'd thought I'd be okay with it. I mean, after all I've lost what could losing Sam Carter do to me?

Apparently, quite a lot.

I'll admit, I was angry with her, but when had that ever lasted long? Sam knew how I felt when she'd tactlessly told me about her engagement. She knew how I felt when she invited me to the wedding.

So now I'm here, in this quaint little church, sitting on the bride's side, naturally. It's too hot, my tie feels like it's choking me, and the last time I wore this suit was at a funeral.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I try to hold it together just a little longer. Two deep breaths later, I open them again, instantly regretting the decision. I see **him** standing there, awaiting his bride. I'd avoided eye contact, especially after that weird moment where we shook hands and nodded in a manly fashion. He'd been surprised to see me there, yet there was no malice in his reaction. It irked me that he wasn't the least bit threatened by my presence... if anything I saw a mask of indifference, and a glimpse of sympathy.

I hated him for it.

Now he's patiently waiting, a stupid grin plastered on his face like it's the greatest day of his life. It probably is. I know if the situation had been reversed... _God, I wasn't going there._

I sigh just then, releasing the pressure in the fists I'd been unconsciously clenching.

Music. It's started.

_'Oh shit.'_

Collectively, everyone turns to to catch the first white glimpse of the bride. I look over my shoulder, like everyone else. Like I'm just some passing figure in her life who'd done something good along the way to warrant a wedding invitation.

She looks spectacular.

A confidant smile does for her what the classic styled gown cannot: it tells me she's happy, andthe thought is wrenching my heart. I was almost hoping she could be as miserable as I am. It's selfish, but I' not in a particularly altruistic mood today.

She puts her shoulders back, as if to remind everyone of who she is: military officer. It's not a pretentious move, just another facet of who she is. She's walking now. The music wafts cautiously in her wake; softly beginning, but swelling with every step she takes down the aisle. Her hair's still as short as ever, but it's twisted into some intricate sculpture and laced with a veil, falling behind her. In her hands she's holding- clutching- a bouquet of Spring's flowers. Her eyes are wide... nerves? No, it's anticipation I see in those dual depths. With each step she nears me. With each step I'm losing her.

A quick smile is thrown in my direction. Had I blinked I would have missed it; I thank God that I hadn't. Does she know how that smile caught my breath? Does she know how that fleeting gesture on her part had lasted a lifetime for me?

Unlikely.

For the first time I notice her father, beaming at her side. He's thrilled for her. Stopping just before the groom, he turns to his daughter, giving her an affectionate hug, and **him** a good-natured glare. This sends a gentle ripple of amusement across the audience. To everyone but me.

"We are gathered here today..."

_God!_

Right about then is where I tune out. I'm good at that. Blocking out sounds, faces, people, emotions. Survival tactic. It doesn't stop my regret though, nothing could. I'd had her, and I'd let her go.

_'It wassupposed to be me'_

The thought leaves me cold. Suddenly life isn't fair, but then, I knew that already didn't I?

She's wearing an expression of pure delight. Her lips are moving, no doubt in sweet vows of love and faithfulness, but I can't hear the words.

I keep smiling. What else can I do? I know I'm being watched by severalmorbidly curiousfaces. They're waiting for me to break, bolt, or kidnap the bride.

Not entirely bad notions... but they hadn't considered the fact that I love her too much to do that. I focus again on events at hand.

_"Who bears the rings?"_

One of **his** friends offers up the golden bands. Can't remember the name... David? Daryl? Who really gives a shit. It should have been me. My friends. My ring.

Suddenly it's over. Like the sting of a bullet, right before you fall into blissful unconsciousness, the moment is mercifully quick, and infinitely painful.

I look away before there lips meet in a lock of trust. Yep, the verdict is in, and it hurts like hell. Sounds of cheer erupt around me, noisily tearing at the fabric of my self-control.

She's making the return journey down the aisle, and she's not alone. His arm is wrapped around her holding her firmly, but not possessively. She doesn't look at me this time. I doubt she'd remember my name if I'd stopped to ask her.

"Pete, buddy, you okay?"

I glance up at the concerned face of Mark Carter.

"Do I have a choice?" I ruefully smirked.

"You didn't have to come." he says quietly, "I love my sister, but after the way she ended things with you, you don't owe her anything."

My mind drifts back to that painful day, the day when she'd said it was over. Gently, she'd responded to my interrogation with guilt, regret, and definite certainty. She clearly knew what she wanted and it wasn't me.Months later, when she told me about their engagement, I was set on proving to the world that I was fine with it.Best performance of my life.

No, I didn't owe her anything, but I love has a cruel way of making you forgive.

"Mark, I needed to be here. As much for her as for myself."

I look over at them. They haven't even made it all the way down the aisle before getting ambushed by well-wishers. Oblivious to the flutter of congratulations, O'Neill swats his wife's veil out the way before brushing his lips over her neck. He's whispering something to her that makes her roll her eyes and elbow him in the chest. He's annoying her, and she loves it.

That's probably the exact moment where it hits home for me.

I'd never been a threat to O'Neill. Even when Sam was with me, loving me, I'd never stood a chance. Suddenly I'm relieved she broke it off with me when she had. A divorce would have been so much more painful. That's precisely how it would have ended of course. I had no delusions about being able to keep her happy when her heart was blinded to everyone but him.

O'Neill's got that elated grin on his face again, talking to the two men in their path: the big bald guy and the one with the glasses. Sam had told me their names once, pointing them out on a worn photo. I can't remember them now.

"For what it's worth Pete, I don't understand what she sees in him. O'Neill's a damn luck bastard, and I hope he knows it." Mark's voice was low and strained.

I made no move to reply, watching as the couple finally made it to the doorway. They were laughing and posing for a quick photo. Arms entangled, bodies as close as decently possibly, eyes never leaving each other. O'Neill caught her lips again, their second real kiss as husband and wife.

I didn't look away this time, but feeling very much like a voyeur, I saw the truth.

"He knows... and if not, he's got the rest of his life to figure it out."

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